You are a pretentious, phoney faker,
Who appears to have everything.
But, I know of one sweet, perfect tool,
From your collection that’s missing.
A way you can be all, fast and efficient,
Being hurtful, abusive, maleficent.
You love to stereotype, without validity.
Trying to sway people to see what you see.
You’re an unfair, name caller, that’s your kind.
Speaks volumes to all of your frame of mind.
So, I’ll ask Santa, the best gift for a faker.
For you, handheld, portable, label maker.
You’ll like it, because it looks like a gun.
Shoot your assumptions like bullets, so fun.
Just one thing from you in return,
As people will find quickly and learn.
That to their desks, you’ll be stopping by.
When you label them, you’re to look them in the eye.
No more your put downs, and words like those.
Be prepared to get punched in the nose.
Be sure that sticky tape doesn’t run out.
Save some labels, for them to pass out.
Attach to you, is where they’ll stick.
Labels like pot-stirring, stupid, a-hole, d**k.
So the lines above are full of names.
Am I as guilty as you at your game?
I beg to differ with you of course,
You’re the labeler who started it first.